


Innocent Ones

by areyoukiddingme



Category: Dorian Gray - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoukiddingme/pseuds/areyoukiddingme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were so many people out there willing to do exactly what he wanted them to just because of his pretty face, and yet he always seemed to lust after the innocent ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dorian walked through the streets of Paris as if in a dream, the beautiful and quaint nature of the place completely lost on him. He couldn't feel anything anymore. Absolutely nothing. He'd stumbled across this unfortunate revelation when yet another beautiful young woman was draped across him in Brazil, but instead of the joyous afterglow he felt when he'd just started his debauchery, there was only a dull weight in the pit of his stomach. He barely noticed the effects of cigarettes anymore and whenever he drank it merely made him feel even more numb than usual. He still had his startlingly good looks plus his youth and he was planning a trip back to his home in London to surprise his old friends; Harry would be delighted, no doubt, to see the husk he'd become.

He was musing on his feelings, or lack of them, ignoring the stares that he'd received for all of his life while he wondered aimlessly into a small coffee shop that reminded him very much of home. He was very close to England, after all. He thought upon his losses until he saw someone across the other side of the room who made his heart skip in his chest and his gaze linger, the marked difference from his numbness driving him to move forward and speak to her.

"Bonjour." He spoke smoothly in the little French he knew, making her glance up from the book she was reading. She was wearing small golden reading glasses with her unruly blonde hair tied in a bun at the back of her head and the blue binding of her book matching her dress perfectly, making him wonder whether she had planned it or not.

"Bonjour monsieur." She responded in crisp tones, reminding him of an English accent.

"Parlez-vous anglais?"

"Oui. Je suis anglais." She laughed slightly as he grinned awkwardly.

"I'm terribly sorry, I thought you were French." He reverted back to English as he slid into the seat opposite her.

"I'm afraid not, I'm just here for a short visit. I'm travelling back to England tomorrow." She said, her countenance slightly saddened by the thought.

"I am too. What brings you out here?"

"I wished to travel the world..." She commented wistfully. "But I only made it as far as France. What are you here for?"

"I have travelled the world." He answered somewhat hesitantly; he didn't want to seem that he was boasting. But she was impressed instead of jealous, her whole face brightening as she heard his comment.

"Really? How incredible." She paused. "You don't seem all too pleased about it."

"No, I-" Dorian stumbled, not realising that his face had become drawn while she longed after his privileges. "- I have overindulged myself, I fear. I wish to go home, for a short while at least."

"I understand." She said softly, wild empathy playing in her eyes. He struggled to divert his gaze and when he did it landed on the small book in her lap.

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, just a small book of poems." She replied, her cheeks tinging red. "I'm a bit of a Romantic."

"How wonderful." Dorian smiled brightly, cheering her up instantly because of it.

"You truly think so?"

"Oh yes, I love literature." He lied. Well, he wasn't sure whether it was a lie or not anymore. He remembered enjoying books back in the old days but now he couldn't remember the last time he'd even picked one up.

"I do love a well-read man. I suppose you must have had plenty of time to read when on your travels."

"Yes." He clenched his jaw, trying not to betray the evident sins he had committed instead of the quaint reading that she was imagining.

"Well, I'd better go." She stood up and he rose with her. "When are you leaving tomorrow?"

"I'm taking the ten o'clock boat from Calais." He informed her and she smiled in response.

"What a coincidence, I am too. Perhaps I shall see you tomorrow Mr..."

"Gray. Dorian Gray." He reached forward and kissed her hand lightly, unaware that this was not tradition in France.

"I'm Ada. Ada Woodhouse."

His lips lingered for just a fraction too long so when he finally released, she bobbed before quickly leaving, seeming slightly flustered. Dorian didn't notice that, he'd produced this reaction from the meeker women for all of his life, but he did have to stop and think for a moment about what had just occurred. He sank back down into his chair, his eyes alighting on her empty coffee cup as he tried to remember what had made him wonder over in the first place. Sure, she was beautiful, but he had seen so many during his lifetime that were willing to throw themselves at him he thought he'd been numbed to that too. Resting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, he mused until he had a revelation that made perfect sense to him; hope. It was practically etched into her every feature. A new life where he could feel again and every day brought new surprises, maybe even love. With an idle smile on his face, he walked out of the shop with a sense of excitement that was only matched by perhaps Ada herself who had just been approached by the beautiful young man. She didn't care whether she saw him again, it was enough that she saw him at all, let alone expect anything more from him.

*

The next day, Ada was the first to spot Dorian as he stepped onto the deck where she was already pacing lightly.

"Dorian." She called out and he turned, evident happiness at seeing her again brightening his features. She was wearing a red gown which he presumed was for the benefit of those back home and not for him, although he liked to think that, and he looked eagerly for a book bound in red to match her dress but no such luck.

They both talked on the relatively long journey back to London (where apparently they were both headed); her completely opening up to him while he merely ghosted over his past, skipping over the parts covered in blood or held in a dark chamber, predominantly letting her talk. When they got off of the boat, Dorian hired a private hansom where they continued to chatter as if they were old friends, the cab driver mistakenly assuming they were a couple returning from their honeymoon.

Unfortunately, Dorian's old house was their first stop and as the carriage slowed he scrawled something quickly on a piece of paper, handing it to her as he leaned forward, reminding himself of the French culture as he kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Do come and visit me sometime." He spoke softly as he leaned away from her. "I'm frequently idle and I do so love the company."

Ada couldn't get her breath back fast enough to reply and when she was ready the cab was already flying down the London streets, far away from Dorian and his huge household. She looked down at the paper which had his address hastily written on and smiled to herself; there was potential for a beautiful relationship. She just didn't know his flaws.

*

Ada knocked tentatively at Dorian's door; she had his note in her hands and she'd seen his house from the hansom but she was still worried that it might be the wrong one. As she waited for a response she wished she given her address so _he_ may call upon _her_ when the door opened silently in front of her to reveal a withered old man who looked shocked at her arrival.

"Hello? I'm here for Mr Gray?" She ventured when the old man merely stared at her. It took a couple of moments more to recover but when he did he ushered her inside and took her coat. She felt almost bad for the hunched gentleman, she felt she could put her own coat away if he could just put his feet up. He'd probably been in the house through generations.

"Miss Woodhouse." A voice echoed through the silent house and she turned to see Dorian dressed in all of his London finery, bowing as he approached her.

"I hope it's a convenient time, Mr Gray, it's just-"

"Yes, it's perfect." He interrupted her, reaching behind her and closing the door firmly.

"I must say, you have a beautiful house Mr Gray." Ada complimented him as she walked into the parlour, staring in awe at every fixture.

"Thank you, I inherited it from my grandfather." He said while also discreetly dismissing his butler.

Said butler walked around the corner, but instead of leaving for the servants quarters he hung back, choosing instead to pick up a newspaper and use it as a cover should anyone discover him trying to listen in on the couple's conversation. He was curious; the last he knew of his master, he wasn't taking well-respected women into his house, the women he met up with generally came in the dead of night and would leave one hell of a mess for him to clean up in the morning. He wondered if abroad had changed his master in any way for the better. Or worse, was he intent on corrupting people now with his beauty instead of taking those already tainted with life's 'pleasures'?

"How are you adjusting to life in London?" Ada asked openly, still marvelling at the furnishings of the house.

"Very well, I met up with my old acquaintances. My oldest friend Harry had a beautiful daughter who I only met for the first time yesterday."

"Oh yes?" Ada looked back, slight jealousy tinging both her features and tone.

"Yes. She was rather interested in photography."

"Her father must be very rich."

"He is." Dorian picked up on the hint of jealousy and decided to tease her for it. "She asked me to join her on a picnic this weekend."

"And you've accepted?" Ada asked quickly.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Whether I have any other plans on that day." Dorian quirked his eyebrow at her, but she didn't bite.

"Oh."

"Come, let me show you around the house." Dorian gestured to her after a slightly awkward pause, following behind her as she walked up the stairs. He didn't have to steer her much, but did sharply turn her when she made a move to go up a rickety old staircase.

"That's merely the attic, you don't want to go up there." He lied, warily eying the ominous entrance as he practically pushed her away.

They eventually ended up in his bedroom, a small smile on Ada's face she looked around the large room.

"How is it that everything in this house is beautiful, Mr Gray?" She asked, her eyes landing purposefully on him.

"I have other people to decorate it for me." Dorian said jovially and Ada laughed, temporarily off her guard as he stepped closer towards her. When she did notice, he was already looming above her, stopping her laughter abruptly as she realised the intense closeness of their bodies and tried to move away. He stopped her, placing a hand lightly on her waist and she looked up at him, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. The innocent expression was too much for him, the years of giving into pleasure leaving him weak as he dipped the small woman and kissed her passionately. Her hands unintentionally gripped his suit, her mind fuzzy to the outside world as she was kissed by a man exceeding the looks of anyone she'd met previously. Her head suddenly became clear, however, as she felt the frame of his bed press against her calves and she pushed him away, placing a finger on his lips.

"No."

"Come on..." Dorian smirked, thinking that it would pull her back in a heartbeat. What he forgot was that she was not the transgressor that he was used to, she was brought up in England by the strict moral rules he had been brought up on and yet discarded so quickly.

She looked momentarily horrified before crossing over to the other side of the room defensively.

"No. It is forward enough of you to kiss me, sir, so to ask me to do anything more is quite out of the question."

Dorian knew that one more plea could bring her to his knees, begging for him to take her, but he thought it interesting that he might have to wait so he merely watched as she stared at him with disbelief before stalking out of the room. He'd never had to wait before.

He stared at the spot where she'd been, the softer side of his personality tugging at him until, on impulse, he skidded downstairs and managed to catch her while she was still being handed her coat by the butler.

"Wait! Please, give me another chance." He looked at her evenly; he knew he would see her again sooner or later but her reaction now would determine how soon.

She pursed her lips, turning away from him.

"It was too forward of me and I apologise. But you were just so compelling, I couldn't stop myself."

Ada turned back slightly at these words, granting Dorian permission to speak.

"Please, join me on a picnic this Sunday."

"I thought you said you had plans."

"Only if there isn't anything else I’d rather attend."

"Well, I suppose I can give you one more chance, Mr Gray." She gave in reluctantly.

"Thank you." Dorian said earnestly, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. "Come here at, say, midday?"

"I shall see you then, Mr Gray." She said curtly before turning and walking out of the door without glancing back.


	2. Chapter 2

Ada arrived at Dorian’s door promptly at midday, a lot more confident that it was, in fact, his house and rapped at the door. Only, this time it was not the old man who answered the door, but Dorian himself, carrying a picnic basket.

“Mr Gray.” Ada greeted him and he nodded back.

“I thought we may go to an old haunt of mine.” He commented as he stepped out onto the pavement with Ada following suit.

“And where is that?”

“A park I used to visit in my youth.”

She giggled and he looked to her in confusion.

“You are still in your youth, Mr Gray. You are not allowed to say that.” She said, her grin wide.

“Alright. A place I visited in my past.” He corrected himself, smiling sweetly.

They walked in relative silence for the rest of the way, Dorian getting the same amount of stares as he usually did, only this time it was painfully obvious to him how many women’s- and men’s- eyes were on him. After a while, he reached out and laced his arm through Ada’s, protesting that he was keeping her safe on the busy street. The amount of looks didn’t decrease, however, they only turned into jealous stares. He wished that he were older, that lines of old age were marring his face so he could go out once, just once, without being stared at.

The park consisted of large swathes of lush green grass, but Dorian gravitated towards the centre where the lake was. His mouth pursed as they approached the waterside. Ada noticed his silence, but didn’t comment on it. He had said it was a place from his childhood; perhaps he was feeling nostalgic.

Then suddenly he stooped down, fumbling among the reeds before picking up a discarded piece from the back of a chair that looked several decades old from the amount of decay. His face grew forlorn and he passed his hand over his mouth. Ada could ignore it no longer.

“Are you alright, Mr Gray?”

“Yes.” He said firmly, abruptly throwing the wood with all of his might into the centre of the lake. “I think this is a good spot for our picnic, isn’t it?”

Ada was unsure as he had had such a strong reaction to a _piece of wood_ , but he was firm and had soon spread the picnic blanket down on the ground and was opening the wicker basket. He gestured beside himself, and Ada sat, watching as he removed battered crockery from the basket, looked to be handed down through generations.

“Not my finest, I’m afraid.” He apologised.

“No, it’s charming.” Ada insisted, placing her hand over his for a moment before correcting herself.

Dorian smiled slightly, continuing to remove foodstuffs and champagne from the basket. They both ate demurely, Dorian with a faraway look on his face. Ada began to wonder whether it was a good idea to settle here after all.

“Who was she?” She asked unexpectedly.

Dorian froze, his eyes widening as he processed her question before slowly lifting his eyes to look at her.

“How do you know?” His voice was strained.

“You smile so sadly. And you yourself have already told me that your parents died in your infancy. Who else would you care for so?”

He nodded slowly, his thoughts overwhelming him again.

“You can talk to me, Mr Gray. It helps.” She spoke quickly before he went too far down that rabbit hole. He hesitated before looking towards the lake again.

“Her name was Sybil.” He said quietly, so quietly that Ada could hardly hear him. “We… we were engaged to be married.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t wish to burden you with my-”

“What happened?” Ada repeated firmly. He looked to her with almost… fear in his eyes before answering.

“She killed herself.” Dorian said flatly.

Ada’s eyes widened, her mouth downturned and she shifted uncomfortably.

“Because of me.” Dorian continued. “It was all my fault. She was carrying my child and I- I...”

“Oh, Mr Gray.” Ada sighed, reaching out to him. She ignored the fact that they were only just engaged, and she was already with child. Slowly his character was being revealed to her, but she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Dorian felt wetness on his cheeks and looked to Ada in confusion before touching his face. He was crying. His eyebrows knitted together; he hadn’t cried since… well, since Sybil died. He wiped off the tears fiercely, but was still shaken from the fact that he had actually cried.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so emotional.” He apologized.

“There’s nothing wrong with being emotional, Mr Gray.” Ada insisted.

“Please, call me Dorian.” He smiled lopsidedly at her and she smiled back.

“Very well, Dorian.” She tested his name on her tongue and was very satisfied with the results.

“Come, let’s eat these strawberries while they’re still fresh.” He leaned over, pulling them out of the basket and settling them between the two of them.

She reached out her hand, but he stopped her, looking at her evenly.

“Please, allow me.” He said, picking up a strawberry and holding it to the level of her lips.

She seemed slightly uncomfortable, but complied with his request, hesitantly leaning forward before biting the strawberry out of his hand. He smirked, picking up the bottle of champagne. He popped the cork, Ada clapping as he did so, then poured out two glasses.

“To forgetting the past.” She lifted her glass. “And a brighter future. For you, especially.”

He toasted her too before downing his champagne.

“Down in one?” He suggested.

“Don’t be stupid.” She retorted, continuing to sip at her champagne.

Ada then suddenly realised how close he was; He had been inching closer to her throughout the whole picnic, but Ada only noticed when he was inches from her face. That irresistible temptation was before her again, watching as he leaned closer and closed his eyes.

She placed a hand firmly on his chest, averting her eyes.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea after what happened last time?” She suggested softly.

“I’m sorry. I’m a slave to my impulses.” He spoke agitatedly. He was only now realising how inappropriate his movements were, especially to someone as Miss Woodhouse.

“I realised.” She smiled slyly. “And who taught you that?”

“Harry.”

“I’ve heard a lot of this ‘Harry’. Is he as dissolute as you make him out to be?”

“You don’t even know.” Dorian muttered sadly.

The weather began to get colder so Dorian packed up the basket, Ada standing up and stretching her stiff limbs.

“Thank you for the picnic Dorian, it was delightful.” She complimented him as they began to walk back to his house.

“Yes. I’m sorry I brought the mood down.” He apologized.

“It’s fine. You’re a man with a complicated past, Mr Gray.” She smiled to herself, staring at the pavement. “I should be happy to hear any of it that you’re willing to share.”

Dorian abruptly stopped, looking at her with a slightly lost look on his face.

“Dorian?” She asked, concerned.

“Ada? Would you like to picnic with me next weekend?” He asked earnestly, that confused look still marring his features.

“Of course.” She mirrored his earnestness, approaching him and placing a hand gently on his forearm.

He followed her hand with his eyes, staring at it resting on his dark suit. She wasn’t put off by his stare this time, however, and kept her hand there, despite the looks they both were getting.

“Allow yourself to be completely transparent with me, Mr Gray.” She said firmly, before wrapping her arm around his own and forcing him to keep walking.

He continued walking in confused silence all the way back to his house, only breaking that silence when they both stood on his doorstep, her staring up at him with concern.

“How far away is your home?” He asked her abruptly. “I should hate to have you walk all the way back.”

“Oh no.” Ada protested quickly. “I live very nearby, there is no need-”

“I own a hansom. It’s no trouble.” He interrupted, speaking with such conviction that she knew there was no way she would be able to back out of it now.

“Wait here, I’ll summon my cab.” He urged, quickly skipping up the stone steps up to his house.

Ada stood awkwardly on the steps, staring into the street as she waited for Dorian. Finally, he came around the corner in a very stately hansom carriage. Ada told the driver her address before settling beside Dorian, her heart hammering in her chest as they approached her home. They pulled up outside a very thin, georgian-style building crammed in-between two other rows of houses, adorned with strings of ivy and wild flowers littering the front lawn. Dorian looked up at the building with a small smile on his face.

“May I come inside?” He asked innocently.

Ada blushed, knowing that it wasn’t nearly the luxury that he was used to.

“I’m afraid that my house will seem terribly small and unsophisticated after yours, Mr Gray.” She flushed, trying desperately to deterr him.

“Nonsense.”

He stepped out of the hansom and Ada quickly followed his direction, making sure that she reached her house before he did.

“I don’t know why you’re so determined-”

“You told me to be transparent. Allow yourself to be the same.” Dorian interrupted her smoothly.

Ada hesitated, drawing back before smirking and accepting his goading.

“Alright, Mr Gray.”

She accepted him into his home, watching his reaction to the narrow corridors and small rooms cluttered with things she’d collected, studied or was working on currently. He eyed everything with wonder, occasionally picking up an object and looking at it with such adoration that she questioned as to whether this was actually her home and not his.

“Everything is so charming.” He uttered, a small smile pulling at his lips. “It matches you perfectly.”

“I’m not as wealthy as you I’m afraid, Mr Gray.” She apologised, not sure as to whether he was mocking her or not.

“Money is not the only source of happiness.” He spoke sadly. “You are happy, aren’t you Miss Woodhouse?”

She hesitated, biting her lip. She tapped her fingertips together before reaching forward, placing her hand over Dorian’s impulsively.

“I think so.”

“Can you teach me how to be happy?” Dorian sounded so melancholy that it pulled at her heartstrings.

She looked to the floor, taking a deep breath before making eye contact with Dorian. He looked right back at her, but didn’t make an action as he was curious as to what she would do. She reached up to his face with shaking hands, drawing her hand over his cheek.

“You’re so terribly beautiful.” She muttered.

“I know.”

Ada pursed her lips before giving in to one of her urges for the first time; she lurched forwards, placing her lips on his. She kissed him firmly, her hand still resting on his perfect porcelain cheek. He hesitantly reached up, wrapping his hand around her neck and angling her closer, deepening the kiss. Her chest tightened and she pulled him even closer.

She released him, feeling slightly lightheaded as they both had their heads so close that they were breathing the same air, her head reeling as she tried to piece together some kind of comprehensible thought.

“Next weekend?” Dorian whispered.

“If I can wait that long.” Ada smiled sweetly, caressing his cheek.

Dorian smirked, pulling back before bowing. He then backed out of her house, and she watched him walk out onto the street and get back onto his hansom. She smiled to herself, biting her lip as she stared out of the window, swaying slightly. She had the slightest feeling that she was in love.

*

And so next weekend they picnicked. And he next. And several times in the week following that.

Ada didn’t judge, and so Dorian revealed more of his past, telling her things that he had never told another soul. Of course, he didn’t go into detail in order to not spoil her delicate brain, but from what he spoke of she could figure out his exploits. He had most certainly slept with numerous people, bore several children, perhaps even delved into some… homosexual tendencies. And yet, when she looked at him she could see none of it reflected in his features. It was almost as though he was describing someone else’s life instead of his own, so detached and unbelievable were his tales.

They began to meet so often that it became unusual when they did not see one another in the course of a day. It was at this point Dorian began to get restless, his mind abstracted when he was around her. But he wanted to do it properly this time.

Ada was reading in the front room when she heard knocking at her door. She was not expecting anyone so opened the door with some confusion, a smile breaking her features when she saw that it was Dorian.

“Mr Gray.” She said pleasantly. “I was not expecting you.”

“Surely you have come to expect me at all times now.” He smiled, pulling out the roses he had hidden behind his back.

She took them with some measure of caution; he had never given her flowers before.

“Would you like to come inside?” She stepped out of the way of the door, but he merely shook his head.

“No, I merely have a simple question to ask of you.”

He said this with some urgency, yet stood there wordless as Ada resumed her position in the door frame.

“Well?”

“… One question.” He said falteringly.

“Yes?” She smirked at him.

Was he… nervous? She had never seen him nervous before, she rather hoped that he would not be able to get the words out for longer so she could continue to witness him in such agony.

“Miss Ada Woodhouse, would you… what I mean to ask is, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

Ada’s heart stopped in her chest. That was the very last thing she expected to come from his incessant mumblings, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He produced a ring from the pocket of his jacket and held it out to her, his eyes wide. He seemed just as unsure as to whether she would accept the proposal as she was.

She reached out and took the ring from his hand, twisting it around her fingers before hesitantly slipping it onto her ring finger. She looked at it on her hand, watching it glint in the light before slowly looking back to Dorian.

“I accept, Mr Gray.” She spoke breathlessly.

*

They were married within a week and were living comfortably within the second. Dorian had expected this whim to pass in an instant, the moment he had said ‘I do’, but found that he was far more satisfied than he expected. He didn’t seem to have that restlessness any more, neither the absence of feeling that he had grown so accustomed to. Occasionally he’d feel an urge, but he only had to look at his wife to squash it. She was instrumental to his recovery.

He had even stopped thinking about the painting. Ada had convinced him that he no longer needed to think of the past, so he no longer looked at the painting, wallowing in self pity. He rarely even thought of it any more. He still kept that key around his neck, however, as he was so used to it now that he felt naked when he was without it.

They had been married a month and were both in bed. It was late at night, the rain hammering against the windows and while Dorian slept fitfully, Ada couldn’t fall asleep. She looked to her husband, watching him sleep when the key against his neck shimmered in the candlelight. She bit her lip, musing; he always wore that key. And she had never thought to ask what it unlocked. So, for a midnight adventure, she thought to discover what it did unlock. She carefully, carefully, lifted his head to slip the chain from his neck and padded out of the room, candle in hand.

She went to his study first, but was disappointed to discover that none of his drawers even had locks. Pacing the floor, she thought of places in the large house where she had never been. Then the attic came to mind; she had no wish to go up there for fear of rats or bats, but she truly did wish discover what the key opened.

So she went to the very top of the house, eyeing the metal bars fixed to the door to the attic warily. She didn’t ask why he had prison bars on his attic door either.

She slipped the key into the lock and found that it fit perfectly, clicking satisfyingly as she turned it. Well, she thought to herself, I have unlocked it now, I may as well discover what is inside. And if there is even the slightest hint of a rat, I shall run out of there immediately and never return.

She wandered down the corridor, walking until she came across another door which she unlocked too, her curiosity now mounting as she stepped into a large, bare room with a singular painting propped in the centre of the room, covered in a matted old sheet. She approached it cautiously, passing around to the front of the painting. What would Dorian have to hide so scrupulously?

“Ada!” She heard coming from downstairs, Dorian’s panicked voice not reaching her ears as she reached for the tarp.

Dorian bounded up the stairs, his heart in his throat as he saw the door to the attic open, running through to the hole where he kept his portrait. He rushed in to see Ada with her hand on the sheet. He was frozen with fear, so shocked that he couldn’t move a muscle, even as he watched her pulling back the sheet seeing it drop to the floor in horror.

He’d have to kill her now. That’s what he’d done to all the others. Would he use the mirror again, as he had done to Basil? Maybe he could use her nightgown as some sort of noose. Or simply force the life out of her with his own body, feeling her struggle against his hands as he pressed his forearm against her windpipe.

But instead of recoiling with a look of horror on her face as the others had done, she smiled. She smiled, then looked to him in fascination.

“Dorian, you never told me you had your portrait painted.”

The normality of her voice scared him and he slowly rounded the corner to look at his own portrait, fear gripping him as he looked at the canvas. But he found nothing there. It was merely his portrait, the one that Basil had painted all of those years ago.

“It’s a brilliant likeness.”

His face was his own, nothing crawling through the flesh of his cheek or lines of age marring his features. Quickly, he rushed to take his nightshirt over his head, turning away from Ada.

“Tell me, do I have scars on my back?” He asked urgently.

“Yes.” She answered bluntly. “Have you always had those?”

“I think so.” He spoke breathlessly.

He brought his shirt back over his head and paced, coming towards the portrait then back away from it, touching it with his fingertips before turning from it completely.

“Are you alright Dorian?” Ada asked, concerned.

“Yes.” He muttered before looking to her with wide eyes. “I think I always shall be.”


End file.
